Awkward Kids In Love

It's always awkward when I go over there.

"Why am I even here?" I often ask.

"For the beer." My glass responds

"And the weed!" says the bubbler.

A hot white cloud of "Ah..." escapes me.

Sure, sometimes there's a cute girl or two.

Often a good conversation about a cartoon

character or super hero or musical film.

I can usually count on one pretentious

friend who will succeed at draining any

and all enthusiasm from the activities of

the night. He's usually easy to point out.

Deep voice, white-man confidence, angular

face, and an impressive brain capacity.

"I drink Jim Beam Whiskey exclusively."

He says. "Oh give me a break..." rolls my eyes.

It was uncomfortable enough with Johnny's

fragility and suspicions  running all over the place.

But now he's moved to L.A. and the house is

too quiet without his boisterous air to fill the corners.

Still, his props and action figures echo about the shelf space.

This house host heartbreak. First Patrick and Madison

and their inevitable split, with Pats questionable lingering

eccentricity and Mads viking-woman-esque appeal. 

Madison, apparently was too mean for Patricks

flamboyant softness. And Pat was too nice for Mads mean.

I would think that a therapist like Pat would have all the

answers. Break-up and move on was the apparent correct

choice. Johnny and Marnie weren't a match made in Heaven,

but they had their cute moments, I'm sure. Though, 

I was never found of Marn calling Johnny a bitch

in front of his friends, no matter how playful. 

(I certainly wouldn't stand for it)

Their end was in sight, but not for all to see. 

Thus were the inner toils of John and Marnie.

Finally there's Rich and Maig, the match made in military.

Two pale Americans married soon enough yet too soon.

Cute couple until the comedy started.

Rich would open a routine whenever he liked,

Maig would melt in atrophy, patient and sickened.

I would listen, politely, calm, rapt. 

Fascinated with the near predictability of an

evolving romantic fiasco. "They're just kids..."

I start to think, "...just like me. And they want to love

and feel loved like anybody else. Awkwardly,

unconditionally, musically, intimately.

So, why do I come here?" I'm asking again,

taking another sip, exhaling a whiter haze. 

(Too) Close

Sometimes I get so close to something,

So close I can taste it, smell it, feel it

This is the "good zone," a place where I feel confident

A place of Faith, where I can graze the skin of absoluteness

And then there's too close

Where the balance is offset

My calibrations are jumbled

All of my settings are undone

And I spiral inward to personal darkness

Like falling down my own throat

Sticking to the walls on my way down

That dark, tar speckled, vertical hall

Noisy with sour wind

Sour with vapors of half digested foods

What does the brain think of all this?

Yinka says our brains protect us from ourselves

Perhaps. Or definitely. Most likely...

This year has been a violent wave

Of being close, too close, and so very

far away. 

When Things Don't Work Out

When things don't work out

it feels terrible

Like getting silently rejected 

by a cute neighbor girl

who invited you on a hike 

via Facebook

Some things don't work out

and it's for the better.

Like when the cute neighbor girl 

who has retracted her invitation

is said to have herpes

then things aren't so bad. 

Everyday Faith

Live your life without doubt,

and that is Faith

Dickery

Hickory Dickory Dock

Last night a man got shot

Over a gold chain

The shooter had no brain in his membrane 

or respect for life

A man was ended last night

Hickory dickory dock

Dickery Dickery Dare

He had his hands in the air

wave a gun like you just don't care

A puncture through the heart

to accessorize the clothes he wears

We live in the same city but we can't share

Dickery Dickery Dare

Hippity Hoppity Ho

Blood spurts with just one blow

Blood stains on the girl just he met

Staring up at her facing his death

her number in his wallet dripping red and wet

Hippity Hoppity Ho

Chickory Cherokee Woo

Guess what their teaching in school

how to sing nursery rhymes at three

Instead of who these kids could really be

Have them write their name in cursive one hundred times

over the murder docket sentencing them to two hundred lifes 

These children are bleeding out in the street to nursery rhymes

Chickory Cherokee Woo

Hickory Dickery just won't do.

Wet Crimes

He floats his boat on criminal waters

Bragging incessantly about his endeavors. 

His craft is an intrusive spin on identity
and what it means to create and augment said identity.

His craft is a gateway to a dark, wet culture,
vibrant with misfits, street kids, vandals, and brilliance.

If life is guided by lines, he lives bounded to jagged contours,
shapeless shapes, and wild appendages frolicking across flat planes,
adding depth to dimension.

He has peers.
Faceless figures known only by colorful pseudonyms,
each as street worthy and damage hungry as the next. 

They travel in packs or all alone. 

They have a code, that you never pay for supplies.
That you do not support the system that you are debilitating.

That stealing is necessary.

That not stealing is a not a crime.

MB vs BC

What a cheeky bugger 

 I am not paying any attention whatsoever

it's Friday so who cares

and, in searching for that

I found the weirdest picture

 I think I've ever seen

 forward it

looks like it

maybe, kinda looks like it

yeah

(answered my own question)

he looks like a regular dude

on the beach

 the vinyl costs 30 lbs

that's heavy

It might change your mind

 It changed mine

but then again

 there has never been a good host

Kiss on the mouth, grab of the boob

 I religiously watch that show

because of him

but if you don't like him, you don't like him

though, he's a great host 

I almost feel like this is a practical joke

Prank on a Frank Day

Gag on a Fag

taken two ways

Con on a Jon

hurry the fuck up

 say that

I dare you

double dare in fact

but, I was on mute

you sure?

Guess again!

you heard, you read me

that's my line

I invented it

I had coffee again

can you  tell?

some would say it's a miracle

I'm getting it, alright....

 I bought some things I couldn't pass up this week

necessities/unnecessaries

the one with a fist on one side

 who could forget Big Gay Chris

he took us to his favorite sex shop

partly out of amusement

and partly out of amusement

it was like an elbow

the way it goes into the girl

That sounds painful...

I can't not tell anyone ever

it must be shared

this guy did the impossible

I took a melatonin last night

I keep a bottle by my bedside

thought I'd give it a go

it's the kind of thing you take it just every once in a while, 

it's probably ok

but when you take it every night

 its coming from somewhere else

stupid brain

oh my God

my dreams were intensely vivid

with no end in sight

i know

I would like you to tell me the very first thing that comes to mind

i haven't gotten the picture yet

well

 accidentally 

keep guessing

 the obvious function

is not it's purpose

like lifting weights with her lips

 popular as a bedroom toy

where is the moving part

to keep your mouth open

 I'm guessing

it has resistance

so she is supposed to bite

but come on

perfect way to end a skit

a three minute conversation about nothing

end

so I'm off the phone

copy if you can

I don't know, that's probably illegal

HIGHLY illegal

 it's above the law

 I'll give you three

above the Law...

yes, please

my new favorite number

not Friday anymore

the perfect day

That's the winner

what I would do for one of those

Would you kill a man?

depends on the man

he's probably cool

I mean

that could be me

two heads, hands up

Option A + B

In all things in life, there are two paths to success.

   A) Work Hard

   B) Work Smart

CRUSHER - The Brand New EP!!

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+_+

Who you are = Who you want to be

In our current state, 

we are who we have become through choice, 

consequence, determination, and desire, 

be it onset or offset. 

In this regard we are always who we want to be. 

Therefore it is important to compare yourself only to yourself. 

Who was yesterday? 

Who am I today? 

Who am I tomorrow? 

Women...

Her: I'm impressed you know who Jackson Pollack is...

Me: Cool.

Ring Finger

She speaks softly

trots gaily

and dances

like a wild horse

She is the closest

to me

She is the farthest

away

She's like a dream

so real

so strange

vanishing

If she scratched the sky

diamonds would rain

And should I be so lucky to catch one

firmly in my grasp

I would happily tie it tightly

round her ring finger

Mr. Young

You're a hard hearted little boy

with a harsh and critical attitude

You whip your little yellow tongue

snapping out small, subtle insults

and poison the air

You'd like to think we're not similar

but, brother we are.

Though a canyon separates our cultures

we are bound by nature,

mother fucker.

Frankly, I don't like you much

and that's what I like about you

That you could care less and never more

keeping your nose up

while you look down

You dress as sharply as you speak

and sometimes just as colorfully

But I hear you mostly talk about

"Weak shit" and "rude shit"

and that is you

I heard you bragging about yourself

how you stay away from outer influence

yet you criticize how your brothers live

and offer your best advice

behind their backs (hypocrite)

I appreciate your existence

the gift of lessons you bring

that I was sort-of once like you

except taller, bigger,

and grateful of most things

A Good Fit

Some jeans fit quite nicely

Hugging the rounds of the thighs

gently compressing at the knee

comfortably clung to the calf

and finally relaxing at the ankles

Though, consider first the fabric

After-all, there are many types of denim

different dyes and eclectic washes

And not everyone sews similar seems

Cheap pairs often fall apart quite easily

Finding the right fit is a challenge 

Sure, I'm a 34 x 34 when I stand

But, I become a 34 x 36 when I sit

So I need jeans that contour to me

And not the other way around

Little

Was he ever one to do his homework?

He wasn't, at least not often.

He would scrape over the pages with his eyes

jumble up the symbols and signs

read over and over the instruction and lines

then droop low into a sulk and softly sigh,

"I don't want to do this."

However, inside his little head

ringing about in his vast little mind

a harsher sound could be heard

a scream, a shout, a curse, a plea

"I don't know how to do this! 

How am I supposed to do this?

Please, Please! Help me!"

8/15/2014

Don't be afraid to write

words are just words

A soul, whether sharp or dull,

beckons to be expressed

Be courageous

a great bold mind

hard and tough to conquer

yet vulnerable still.

Beyond The Trees

I am out past the borders

wandering in conviction

rustling up the fallen leaves

dusting off my fiction

Elsewhere is where I'll be

chemically living a dream

withdrawn from banks of memories

crossed out of actualities

The wind whispers secrets to me

truths for ears who'll listen

tells me there's a bending river

appropriate for wishing

Scarcity exist in the outer limits

conjured remnants of the city

however, beauty is all abundant

and forever always becoming

Phantoms

Things aren't so light

like the veins in a butterflys wing

But rather startling heavy;

the rock where my heart should be

Memories are just like people

arbitrarily kind or cruel

I behold a kingdom of memories

over my soul they rule

The mind is an unjust kingdom

it beheads young bodies of thought

premature actions cropped and numbed

the lifeless receipts of each intention bought

 this intent is paid with uncollected debt
phantoms owed to the next set of deeds
"Next Time" written in fine black ink
each little ticket reads

Trouble and You

What am I going to do without you?

where will I go?

You're like the cold of the mountain

beneath a blanket of snow

You say I'm fine and perfect

that you could drink me like wine

But I can't decant from what I'm feeling

the air is too thin

What can I say to melt the ice

gathered at your gate?

If my words turn to fire

then scoot close to me

I'll be the desert when 

you need to dry your running tears

I'll be the safest place to hide

when you need shelter from fear

Tell it like it is

Like it was

and will always be

Don't listen to your Mother

Don't listen to me

I'm trouble, yes it's true

and trouble is in love with you

You don't have to worry

if it's not in the cards

But if you get discouraged

I know, it gets hard

Call me when you want me

just don't wait too long

A good thing will always live

even when it's dead and gone

is it dead and gone?

Kind Like Kind

Kind are like kind

always searching outside

pulling in self projections

clustering like upon like 

Prompt: 06/20/14

It is not up to us to correct the mistakes of our parents

but to pave over our own paths with hope, ideas, and solutions

adding value to our individual and collective experience

assuring ourselves and our ancestors that whatever attempts

were made to insure a promising present and future, 

those attempts both successful and otherwise, 

are surely not in vain, but rather cherished events

that will forever be hearkened  in the chambers of our hearts.

I Am Defender

Against the throws of war

I am the defender of my heart.

Poisoned arrows with sharpened tips

soar with accusations dripping down their silvery lips 

ready to puncture my every pride.

But I am the defender of my heart.

When lovers complete the idea of me 

with incomplete ideas of me, 

a hollow shell of my actuality 

is animated 

and mocks me like a cartooned parody.

I am the defender.

A patient heart is a determined heart,

not waiting, but patient. 

Indeed wading, patiently, through thick 

and sticky scores of sluts, tramps,

and hooligans, all waiting with bows and arrows in hand.

Here I stand, the shield, the man,

the only defender of my heart. 

The blade sheathed in me is sharp and quiet, 

can reduce a loose tongue to a 

removed one, and will pierce the ears of 

any fortunate enough to hear what truth I speak, 

or stab, for my blade runs deep.

And it must. Because in me, my soul has trust. 

I seek within, beyond the moths and rust, 

between the unsettled dust, 

beneath the copper crust. 

I am the defender.

When chicks play games and lick the names 

of the many men they've fucked and bent, 

I write the boards and bar my chords 

pressing ink to page while burning sage.

Needless to say, the nights are solitary 

in my home. 

I thrive by candle light, 

fire helps me write, 

the flame insist that much burns inside of me. 

The pain, the shame, the 

misery, all melt off like calories.

I exercise the defender in my heart.

I have friends in many places, some wear 

two, three, four, and five faces. 

Some are copy cats and rely on traces 

to shape their lives and like glass blown vases 

are full of hot air. 

Speak your peace or let your words rest peacefully, 

because only deeds can be 

resurrected successfully, 

and the groundsman gave the keys to me, 

I run the graveyard shift in to the early morning. 

Would you believe how many thoughts are buried in this cemetery? 

Six feet beneath actions, respectfully. 

Where is the love you ask? 

Well where do I start? Begin where it ends.

I am the defender of my heart. 

Gods

Just as they created us

we created them

gestures of our human nature

are broadly traced upon their inner and outer contours

Up on great legs, these deities walk

trampling over mountains

swimming in the seas

growing vast valleys on their backs

Some say there is only one

that He is the greatest of the greater,

that She is the spirit, the Mother,

the Creator

Some shatter the spirit into many fragments

For there are rulers over all of my affections, 

my despairs, my prides, and my pities.  

Bakersfield

I cut my face leaving this city

on the sharpest words I think I ever did speak

Now, I don't mind apologies all the time

But I swear I'll never, ever say I'm sorry

We caught a lucky break on Valentines Day

I bought a two way ticket and a hotel where we could stay

Meet me here in Bakersfield, halfway

We could settle down and talk the day away

With no self control,

no question why,

no giving up, 

no saying goodbye

no reason to ever stop

loving you

A stranger called on the telephone

it was a dirty prank played by a local boy

Nothing here interest me except you, my dear

So lets pack our bags and never come back again

But we made love late into the morning

I watched you changing in the mirror

The teddy bear I bought was tossed in the corner

We spilled some red wine and caught it on camera

With no self control

no question why,

no giving up,

no saying goodbye

no reason to ever stop

loving you

No letting go, 

no nights alone

no kiss and run,

except with tongue

no reason to ever stop

loving you

Verses

I want to love you, but

I don't know what to do about it.

I want to you kiss you, but

I am so scared of the taste.

I want to tell you how

I've waited all these years to tell you, but

I don't bother cause you've

cut off both your ears.

I think about you when

I'm out drinking alone.

I start to day dream with

the pictures on my phone.

I think I need you.

I think I'm wrong.

I feel you moving, but

it's just you moving on.

I read your articles.

I read you mind.

I think about the bank where

you save up you're time.

I'm just a dreamer.

You're just a dream.

I think you love me, but

I'm caught up in the seems.

You want to reach out, but

you don't want to seem vulnerable.

You want your freedom, but

it comes at such great cost.

You want protection.

You want control.

You want the person who

can fill up all the holes.

You're always busy.

You're never home.

You only think of me

when you feel all alone.

You say you're right.

You probably are.

You feel so close, but I

push you way too far.

You never ask me

how I'm doing anymore.

You only assume

I'm the same as once before.

You say you're sorry.

I don't speak.

We're like a sad song

broken on endless repeat.

We're seven verses sung

in discord harmony.

A dissonance heard

by ears of likened hearts.

A major melody.

A minor chord.

The sweet resolve

led into a soft encore.

Contenders

I see what you're doing

You've found something new

You're learning how to flip your craft on its ear

and explore new territory.

And I'm proud of you.

I'm proud for you.

I'm inspired.

I'm envious.

It's so easy for you to share your work

You can just send a photo and wah-lah.

You're getting the credit you deserve.

You're getting up and out on the streets

littering the walls with your creation.

It's brave, it really is.

Watching you has helped me expose my fears

and in that exposition my goals are revealed.

There is much I have to share.

There is much work I have to do.

We are very alike, yet so different.

We both want to succeed!

And I am proud of you for wanting that!

We are both contenders fighting a similar fight

in a world riddled with wars of varying nature.

I am doing my best to be a friend.

I am doing my best to grow.

There's so much I want to say,

so much anger and hypocrisy waiting to be exposed,

but things of that sort are better forgiven and half-forgotten.

Because no matter how angry I get, or how jealous I become,

I love you, I care about you, I've got your back.

This is my gift to you.

It's small, but like the passion you have in craft

and in creating envy, 

it grows.

Come on Strong

What did you think would happen?

You came in with a loose tongue, spitting

like a dog off a leash

carrying on about what you heard

I know, I know, I know, I know

I've heard it, heard it, heard it,

heard it all before

You know, you know, you know, you know

it's not worth it

but it hurts, so you like it

You didn't think it would happen

You placed a bet on the wrong hand, didn't you?

It was a long time coming

You fell fast face first on the cold, cold ground

You thought you knew it all

had it figured out from the start

Well, we've all come together now

do your best not to rip us apart

You come on strong

Like the wind before a storm

You come on strong

Like the waves beat down on the shore

You come on

Like the night before the dawn

You come on strong

Like the sound of fading away

Lately

Text messages and miscommunication

Lonely days and lonely nights

Better connecting with self and cat

Behaving more like a stable individual

Thinking, thinking, thinking

Paying less attention, being more attentive

Participating in speaking

Better with women, better with friends

Managing time, money, inebriation

Focus getting stronger

Cultivating true independence

Listening to an old music

Doing what I want to do responsibly, respectfully

Exercising leadership skills

Shifting perspectives, perception

Pushing harder, reaching farther

Reading, writing, and reciting

Building capacities on stronger foundations

Heart Drive

"Click...Click...Click...."

The music had hushed, Elliott Smith was quiet.

iTunes was working, but not working.

The time marker crept along, keeping time, but

no there was no sound except the underwhelming whirring

of the fan in the CPU and the slow, eerie,

"...Click...Click...Click...Click..."

which I had never heard before.

"Some thing's wrong." I said, grabbing the mouse

and selecting pause on the play options menu.

Quickly I selected

Start/Shutdown/LogOff

"Please wait while..."

I waited for a long minute before deciding

something was definitely wrong and used my index finger

to quicken the shut-down process.

The clicking ceased, the whirring quieted, and

another long minute passed.

A hopeful index finger depressed the power button and

the familiar high whistle of the fan blew again,

the motherboard chittered and chattered to life,

gears and gadgets creaked and clanged, and

the computer came to life, much like when any

man or woman wakes from a black sleep,

stretches and twists the body, preparing him bones and flesh

for the working day ahead. And though all these start-up sounds were familiar,

one sound stood out like a jewel in the sand, or

a dark spot stained against a flood of light.

"Click...Click...Click...Click...Click...Click...Click..."

"Fuck." was the preferred expletive.

LogOn/Start/MyComputer/

"What the fuck is 'Drive F?'" It was not the drive I was looking for.

The drive I was looking for was not there.

I was looking for Drive H: Seagate

At least the clicking had stopped.

I unplugged the hard drive from it's mount and "Bum bum..."

the cheerful and dismissive sound of disconnecting a unit from it's port

chimed loudly out of my studio monitor speakers.

"At least it's being recognized..." I thought.

Carefully, I plugged the drive back into the slot, docking the unit to the CPU.

A cheerful and welcoming "Bum bum!" was pronounced along with a haunting

"Click...Click...Click..." from the little black drive.

I was starting to get scared.

"BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ" shook my phone, and a blue light indicating a text glowed on and off.

"It's over... It's done..." I quietly announced.

My Mother busy with her crochet needles and yarn sat quietly on my bed,

her ears tightly cupped inside a pair of my headphones, listening to a YouTube program

streaming to her phone.

"10 years..." I thought.

"10 years of my work, my memories, my time, all erased; lost."

I thought about all the times I had fantasized about this happening,

losing my work, that is,

what I would do, how I would feel.

It was nothing like I had thought it would be.

I was painfully calm.

I didn't scream, I didn't cry, I didn't punch holes in the walls, I didn't

brag about it on Facebook,

instead, I accepted it.

Tracing the footsteps of my memories,

I traveled down many hallways to doors that had long been shut.

Pictures and art from high school; gone.

Pictures from the road trip with my estranged Father; gone.

Pictures of my lovers; gone.

All the late nights, every minutes, every hour, every trace of anything I've ever produced; gone.

My writing; gone.

All the music I stole; gone.

My memories; gone.

My time; arguably wasted.

Still, I did not scream. I did not suffer from any inverted orgasm.

I did not writhe. I did not quiver.

Instead, I responded to the blue flashing light and

joked about about how not all hope was lost, just "most of my stuff."

Thinking Out Loud

"Oh shit...."

I said to myself

as light from cars passing outside

danced across the office wall,

"...she's turning 27 this year..."

a quick personal pause

"..that's so....fucked!"

laughter burst out of me.

Ballpark Love

I could say dreams are curious, but are they really? I cannot recall a time that a dream has flirted any inquiry of me, it is only me that inquires into my dreams, or so it seems. What if we never spoke of dreams and regarded them as an off-shoot of memories? "What was it I was thinking?" Dreams are portals; step into the fissure and feel yourself carbonate. Bubbles rushing through your toes up and out of your nose. You're in deep, dark, thick, sleep. 

So, last night in my dream she was sitting next to me. We were at a ball game of some sort. It felt like baseball, but smelled like football. I sat with her and her girlfriend. The two were laughing and joking at topics easily ignored by a man. She sat next to me, plainly gorgeous, light, and womanly. She is a woman. And here in this stadium, immensely packed with blurred apparitions of people, she was my girl. I wasn't mad at her, but a little annoyed - much like my actual attitude towards her in my waking life. However, annoyed as I was, I was playful and caring, though hardened and quiet. She sat on my left, her hair in a bun, a black tank-top clung to her chest, and jeans that I did not see. A comfortable halt in her girly conversation and she turned to me, finally. Cracking a smile she sarcastically complimented me, "Ohhhh, look at those veiny arms of yours..."she joked, but meant it seriously. My arm outstretched, veins and all, responded immediately to the call. Annoyed, I was, but still in love. Her words still push, prod, and shove like they always have. She tried to turn, but I caught her in my gaze and stared at her as if in a daze. My face was cut as sharp as stone, and in that moment, we sat alone. Isolated in a crowded space, focused on my lover. 

And as I awoke the stadium went black, a heavy vignette shrouded my dream-girl and she was gone. I tossed in my bed from one side to the other, grasping frantically at a pillow, shoving it between my legs. It was early, too early to get up. I laid my head down and thought about that mystery until the waves of sleep carried me again into the sea. 

Bull

Don't take their bullshit.

Tell them right then and there

"No, you're wrong."

Tell 'em they're out of line

and need to get back in.

Tell 'em "No, you can have my time some other time."

Set your own schedule.

Be the hands on your own clock.

You're not here to only fill space,

you're here to create and manage space.

Do talk about it with your friends.

Don't do what you're friends are doing,

but learn from their actions how to

better shape your own.

Cause you're friends are fuck ups

and frankly, so are you.

So, don't take the bullshit.

Be the fucking Bull.

Hold On (We're Almost There)

(For the people of Bangladesh and the souls of their loved ones- safe passage)

Take cover

it's coming down crashing

the ceiling is coming undone

piece by piece it's falling apart

the walls are crushed

and ground into dust

It breaks my heart

Hold my hand in yours...

Deliver

us into salvation

Our bodies are given away

piece by piece we're all torn apart

our bones are crushed

and found in the dust

It's shakes my heart

Lord, my soul is torn

Don't worry

of who is to blame

the dark of the dawn has come

piece by piece we're taken apart

and sewn back up

bound by our trust

I place my heart

in the hands of yours

So hold on,

We're almost there..

We hold on,

We're almost there!

Take cover!

It's coming down crashing!

The ceiling is coming undone!

Mantra

I appreciate the body

I appreciate the mind

I appreciate the soul

and I appreciate time

"Nobody knows they are boring..."

That's funny, I have a very deep knowledge of what makes me boring.

And I'm proud of it. 

Keep looking forward, kiddo.
I want to see you succeed.

Fact and Fantasy

I hate to see you go

but it's better that the hold

you had on me is loose

before the scenes of losing teeth

grip onto my dreams

It is not strange for me

to think of you with other men

In fact, it is a fantasy

that you are wed and happily

married.

Highway

Pouring down the dark highway

just moments before the coming dawn

softening up my waking senses

raising Cain inside my skull

freaked out on a glowing highway

absorbed in the neon lights

pink and green intoxicate me

raucous laughter and muddled behavior

indistinct and inebriated

glazed and high, you know it ain't nothing

compotation on carousals

lit and lush, now I want something

on a trip of sent consumption

tumultuous and turbulent

dry and flaky on the inside

sobering up like a wet sponge in the Sun

pictures of her under the table

plastered on the bathroom wall

all my memories come on doubled

I am steeped in nostalgic behavior

intemperate and rebellious

baked and bombed, I'm all night long

enraptured and exhilarated

tanked and fried, got my hands tied

If it's all a dream

I'm ending it now

It's a break in the clouds

hard light shining down

There's a tear in my eye

from sinus congestion

am I dead or alive?

Well, that's the question..

Slipping out of that saturation

She's the rhythm, she's the sound

I desire no separation

So I dig in deep and make my girl proud

I can't touch her, but I can feel

her sine waves are oscillating

wired to my instrument

my tool, my love, I'm never leaving

Twenty-First Century

Life can be so scary

especially when you know you're gonna die

wake up and work for hours

at a place you hate, and you're left wondering why

Life can be so stupid

when all the tables turn against you

been building this machine for ages

now it wont work, no matter what you do

My friends are changing

they're folding in on themselves

My family is aging

My memories are fading away

And I just want to be

I just want to be

I just want to be a loose screw

There's no need to be

no need to be

no need to be attached to the rules

Life can be so boring

just nine to five, five and nine, and nine to five again

I don't sleep

No time to dream

I wake up in the middle of the night and scream

I don't eat

I don't drink

I don't think about much

I just look around for the next available do-hah

Is it a problem

Or is it a solution?

I got problems

I need a revolution

Twenty-First Century

Twenty-One centipedes

The coins for your laundry and you

are the same thing

Rerun

He's a B-flat whole tone scale kind of guy

who wouldn't know it lest he tried

Never really touched the keys with feeling

until he pressed them next to me

He picked a grand D5 out of the list

A flabby kick, a tight snare, and ride

sequenced them with clever whim

laughing at this silly song

A few suggestions here and there like

subract the sounds as they rerun

shape the length of the pattern clip

and remember to press the song button

Flew the coop, leaving the nest behind

Sped up across the twenty-four

heard the call of our stomachs growl

Seeking provisions wrapped in flour

Can't Get Enough

What I know about her is but topics few

not only does she write, but also reviews

short hand stories read aloud to

tech-head nerdophiles addicted to the news

Subtly revealed to me all the clues

that lead me to believe I sought the blues

Tried my best to abide my rules

that day she laced her running shoes

I've had more and less love to lose

endowing my wounds, she left a bruise

which bled quite black like spoiled fruit

and turned my attention back to the roots

Perhaps I hadn't thought it through

but, what is a conventional man to do?

the night my eyes were brave to woo

that curious guilt that she felt too

Salvations

There is a beach house in my dreams

riddled with dusty things

on the walls lives a whole history

my collection of memories

The edge of the universe, I have seen

there was nothing there for me

just a grip of complex patterns

I laughed until I cried

Today the fifth year continues

soon coming to an end

I have taken on the task

of letting everything go

it runs on frayed tattered edge

Tiny Beast

It's not easy

but don't forget about it

just put it down

try again another lifetime

ages pass

the children get older

the new age

old propaganda

She's not tame

not like the other ones

a tiny beast

tramps on a small frame

I walked out

and slammed the door behind me

I stamped away

And shook the whole street

Lucid Games

Maybe you will change your mind

Waiting for the light to change

Something here doesn't feel right

You called me out of the blue

In the black of night

I stared at some images

they brought tears to my eyes

You were lying next to me

smiling like a wide eyed child

I was hidden in plain sight

locked behind an open door

Nothing feels quite like

when someone doesn't want

you anymore

Lately, everything around me

softly speaks your name

maybe it's my memories

playing lucid games

When you tried to call me

I ignored my phone

I saw the blinking,

heard the vibrating

Still, I left it alone

If I was by myself

I might have picked up

but I was out and with my friends

you were home and out of luck

Larry

It's not so obvious

it's hidden in your eyes

not quite a blanket

but foggy and white

You run from spiders

they chase you in your dreams

some nights you're falling

in and out of sleep

Don't ask your Mama

what the B-word means

She'll drag your confidence

quickly across your cheeks

Kin

Maybe I should give up

trying to love you

maybe I should give up

calling you my kin

Am i so bad that you don't wanna know 

who I am

or who we are together?

If you choose to be

You will be alone

If you choose to be

You will be afraid

Does it hurt so bad when you look at me?

Of Who I resemble

Of Who I favor most?

Maybe I should give up

trying to look at you

Maybe I should give up

calling you at all

Honest

Honestly It's a bad time

maybe you understand

I've been walking in the rain

I've been smoking again

I've been reaching out to you

with my invisible hand

grasping at superstition

pulling out whats real

Every dream takes time

It's better if you're fast asleep

I don't know, I don't mind

Falling in deep

You like to think you're like me

You like to think you know

I don't really know about that

honestly, I don't

Run Off

I get it, you want to see without seeing.
Or be close without being close.
You've extended your invisible reach,
and quietly secured your every security breech.

Nemesis

You gave me a warning
and ruined my ruined day
You can't say you're sorry
and I can't contain myself

Me and my buddies
are taking a trip across town
We're dressed in all black
marching up to your door

The sound of singing
ringing through the halls and the walls
afflicts me like poison
Rushing into my viens

I could turn back
but the door swings wide open
I can't turn back
the window is closing

To whom do I owe
this awful introduction?
I am aghast
at a too soon insult

Your back always turned
Offered us a seat on the floor
Hidden behind the framed glass
Actually, you didn't get my name

I'll sit where I want
Me and my friends
share the psuedonym
And I'm in your house

This is a bad idea
Can you see it my eyes?
All the trouble of my life
Has brought me here tonight